


Untitled

by ceresilupin



Category: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, Star Wars: The Sith Lords
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceresilupin/pseuds/ceresilupin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Was originally planned as the introduction to a longer fic. Canderous talks about his relationship with Revan and says goodbye to the Exile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

If anyone had ever needed proof of Revan’s ability to finagle people into the strangest situations, they’d have found it that night. Even setting aside us three – who disliked each other on a good day, and had taken more than a few swipes at one another on the bad ones – she was sitting in the middle of a reassembled superweapon pulled from the heart of a sun, and building the biggest ship anyone had ever imagined, let alone seen. And she was doing it all with the power of her mind. She hadn’t lifted a finger or spoken a word in weeks.

As you’ve probably guessed, the ‘three of us’ in question were Onasi, Shan, and me. Onasi and Shan you know, and as for me – well, you’ve gotten closer than most people get, I’ll give you that. Her – Revan –  her you don’t know at all. Sure, you fought beside her in the war, and sure, you’ve seen recordings of her in action and speech, but no. That’s someone else’s Revan. You haven’t met mine yet.

Here’s the first thing you should know; Revan could never say no. Another bite, another drink, another hour to sleep – another mission, another friend, another lover to take to bed. She dithered and dallied and would sometimes hesitate, but she never turned away. One more battle, one more war, one more time before we got up, and then again in front of the mirror, and in the shower, and outside the war room, with everyone waiting inside, muffling her gasps into her wrist.

Bastila, at least, had always known what was going on. She rolled her eyes but never complained, waiting for her turn. And she always got it, because Revan always had more to give. _That_ was my Revan.

She always seemed a little loose-limbed, a little unsteady. Her posture was upright, but she was always leaning on something, like a console, a chair, or a friend. She dyed her hair blond and then let it grow into a haphazard mess in need of combing. She wore too much makeup on her eyes and her lipstick was always a little smeared.

No one called her a girl – she certainly wasn’t one of those – but somehow ‘woman’ didn’t fit, either. She never quite lost that uncertain, childish desire to please.

Once, some half-baked pirate betrayed us and put a knife to Mission’s throat, vomiting a disturbing torrent of fantasies and threats. I’d have been happy to kill him for that alone, but he was just wired enough to kill the kid before he died, and I didn’t want that. Revan Force-slammed him so hard we heard his ribs break. The second time crushed his spine. The third? Left his brains smeared on the wall. After seven or eight slams, she finally let his ruined body fall.

Then she hugged Mission and almost cried. That was what it was like to be loved by Revan, and Revan loved us all.

The second thing you should know about her is this: she really did go bad. All the way down, then all the way up again. If you saw her eyes when she fought, or when she lost, or when she said goodbye, you caught a glimpse of what pulled her over the edge. Empty. She was always so damn empty. Maybe that was the heart of the problem, maybe she was just trying to fill herself up – so much time alone, so much time lost.

And yeah, there was no question about it. She was insane. She shouldn’t have been put in charge of picnic, let alone ordnance, let alone a fleet. The Republic was crazier than most people realized. Crazy, or more desperate.

Anyone who knew her would have followed her anywhere.

Enough about Revan. She was extraordinary, but she wasn’t anything special. Revan, riven, riveting – none of it matters anymore. She’s dead.

You think that makes me a hard man? Get over it, kid. I followed her furthest. Onasi and Shan swallowed her sappy speeches about the Republic and the people who needed them; Onasi left us at the Star Forge, Bastila before we hit the Outer Rim. Me, I followed her right into the Unknown Regions before she _forbade_ me to carry on. She could turn the galaxy upside down for me, but I wasn’t allowed to follow her into death. It was the most unjust and unfair thing that’s ever been done to me. And when I asked her if I could die for her, she wouldn’t let me.

I think it was the first time she ever told anyone ‘no’. On the off-chance that she survived, and that you meet her again, Exile – don’t make her say it again. Don’t ask her for something she can’t give you, as hard as that is to imagine.

‘Cause if you break her heart like I did, I’ll have to kill you. Nothing personal. That’s just how it is.

~

It was one of those times on Dxun when the air was cold and clean and faintly tinged with green. Between storms. It was the humidity, Rena had decided, that made the air seem so rich and heavy. That, and all of the light, which bounced off the leaves and was refracted by the water, glimmering and glittering in the corners of her eyes.

Mandalore had done her the courtesy of removing his helmet when delivering this last speech, maybe just so she’d realize how deathly serious his last threat was. She believed him. Revan seemed to inspire obsessive devotion in everyone she’d met, let alone those she’d bedded and adored for years on end.

“I understand,” Rena said huskily.

Mandalore looked like he didn’t believe her, but he didn’t argue, either. “Good,” he said, and put his helmet back on. “Here’s my sensor data from the way out, and the way back in. Mind the nebulae curtains in the outer reaches of Draval – they fried my ships systems and I nearly froze to death in space. Not fun. You’re not as tough as I am, so you won’t make it.”

He’d pulled up the data on one of his gauntlets and Rena obediently transferred it onto her datapad. “How did you survive?”

“Never you mind,” he said gruffly. “Just be careful out there.”

Rena manufactured a small smile and shrugged. His hands dropped to his sides with a metal slap and they stared at one another, dangerously alone in these green wastes. If she looked off to the west, she could see the gray haze that signified falling rain, midway through the slow march east.

“I thought for sure you’d take someone with you,” he finally said. “Not me. I’ve got important things to do here. Maybe the loudmouth pilot, or the creepy techie.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “He’s not creepy.” Mandalore snorted. “He’s my friend,” she added pointedly.

“He’s still weird,” he said, apparently unconcerned by her unspoken threat. As well he should be; unlike him, she’d never made hers stick.

She sighed. “He’s on Dantooine, with the others. I told you I wanted to go alone.”

“Sure,” he said lightly. “I believed you, too.”

She half-laughed and shook her head. Behind her, her ship was waiting, a new, sleek starfighter capable of traveling much further on much less fuel. “I’m going now,” she warned him.

Teethree was already tucked in behind the cockpit, whistling and tweetling to himself. She hesitated with one hand on the ladder, glancing back, more afraid than she wanted to admit.

It was hard to believe that she was already thirty, that ten years ago she’d run from the Jedi Temple in the middle of the night, secreting herself away to an ugly war. It had seemed like the end of the universe, then, and she’d been convinced nothing else would ever be so hard to begin, so hard to do. Surely those long nights between battles had taught her something vital. Surely she didn’t feel like a child anymore, lost and alone.

She’d spent three years in the Core, repairing construction droids and desperately envying the people around her with homes. Families. She’d wanted one for longer than she could remember, and now she had one, and she was leaving it behind. All in the name of a woman she’d barely met and didn’t really like very much. Revan was powerful indeed.

“You sure you’re goin’, kid?” Mandalore prompted. “’Cause you look to me like you want to stay.”

“I’m going,” she tried to say. It emerged as a rasp.

“Not that I’m saying you have to,” he amended. “There’s a battle circle that could use your presence. You’re not a bad cook. And I’ve got about two warehouses worth of old tech that could use some repairing. You never know, stick around long enough, a nice Mando boy might catch your eye. You might find us handy. We’re good in a pinch.”

Later, his offbeat humor would make her laugh, but now it made her want to cry. She bit her tongue until it was numb. “No,” she finally managed flatly. “Goodbye.”

“All right,” she heard him say, as the ship began powering up. “So long, ad’ika.”

Teethree whistled hauntingly, like the wind through the trees. She dashed away her unshed tears and donned her helmet, powering through the system check by rote habit. Stopping now was out of the question; starting again was so much harder than it used to be.

When she finally launched, Mandalore was already gone.


End file.
